


Better With You

by gghero



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gghero/pseuds/gghero
Summary: A day in the lives of Caspar and Linhardt Mundi.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67
Collections: The Linspar Discord's Collection of Chaos and Love





	Better With You

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to detox from writing What We Have Become, I needed something to make myself feel better. This is pure, unadultered fluff, so if you're into that, you're at the right place!
> 
> Personal headcanons: Caspar is an amputee (he lost his right leg sometime around his thirties, during their travels) and Linhardt is nonbinary and uses he/him pronouns. Also, not necessarily mentioned here, but they both changed their last names to Mundi when they got married. It means "of the world" which I think it is very fitting for them.
> 
> Special thanks to Saringold for beta-reading!

Caspar wakes up at sunrise to the sound of four of their six cats meowing at him and pawing at the bed sheets that hang off the edge of the bed.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. It is still quite dark outside, even as the sun has started painting the sky a pale shade of pink. The only other sound in their tranquil little cottage, aside from the chorus of meows that had interrupted his sleep, is his partner’s slow, steady breathing.

Linhardt slumbers peacefully by his side, and Caspar takes a moment to revel in his partner’s beauty. His mouth is slightly ajar—drool wetting the pillow and making long strands of green hair stick to his cheek. Caspar gently closes Linhardt’s mouth and combs his hair with his fingers, then presses his lips against his graying temple and leaves them there for what feels like an eternity.

The cats beckon him again, louder and more urgently now that they sense that one of their owners is awake. Caspar sits up and starts massaging his thigh. His stump is giving him hell this morning. Perhaps bad weather is approaching. Caspar pouts a little as he grasps the wooden grounding charm he always wears around his neck, but his expression softens when Mittens nuzzles his left foot, her whiskers tickling his skin. Message received. Breakfast is a priority.

But just as he is about to lean forward to reach for his crutch, a pair of arms wrap around his waist and practically anchor him to the bed. A half-asleep Linhardt whines about how early it is, and tells the cats to leave his husband alone. Caspar lets out a chuckle, which only prompts their hungry little friends to meow even louder. 

Caspar says good morning, and gives Linhardt a second kiss, one he can properly enjoy now that he is awake. The hum of approval he receives in return makes his heart melt, and he finds himself getting distracted. He coaxes Linhardt to get up by smooching him all over his cute face… and threatening to tickle him if he does not join him for breakfast. Linhardt smiles a little and finally acquiesces.

While Linhardt goes outside to feed the chickens, Caspar fills the cats’ food bowls with bite-sized chunks of tender meat, which they devour as though they had never been fed in their lives. Linhardt is back soon enough with a basket full of eggs that he scrambles to perfection, and in the meantime, Caspar dresses for the day and puts on his prosthetic leg. Linhardt will indulge in staying in his nightshirt just a little longer. He  _ will _ get dressed later, he promises. His cheeks stuffed with egg, Caspar makes a little joke at his expense. Linhardt simply rolls his eyes, and dabs the corners of his husband’s mouth with a napkin as he grins unapologetically.

The two of them kiss each other goodbye on the porch, and with that, Caspar is off. Linhardt does not go back into the house just yet. He leans against the doorframe and watches his husband follow the dirt path that runs alongside the edge of the woods and leads to the village.

After doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen table, Linhardt steps outside and tends to their garden. It is just a little patch of land in their backyard, but the land around these parts is fertile and allows him to grow all sorts of vegetables and herbs. The chickens roam the backyard however they please as Linhardt plucks a couple of leaves from his laurel plant. Their clucking is a surprisingly pleasant background noise.

Meanwhile, Caspar is hard at work at the carpenter’s shop in town. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with a towel, and swipes the wood shavings aside to take a good look at his creation; a log table, sanded to perfection so that the surface is perfectly even. 

When the table is finished, he moves onto his next project. The Millers are expecting a baby very soon, so Caspar makes a beautiful birch cradle for the young couple. Once that is done, the old priest needs his favourite statuette of Cethleann repaired, so Caspar lovingly reassembles her broken staff. 

Between his carpenter’s shop and Linhardt’s job as an occasional town doctor, the two of them have more than enough to get by. More often than not, they get paid in kind instead of in coin, and that is perfectly fine. It's not about the money. People in this tiny village help each other. The neighbors share what they have and get what they need in return. Caspar enjoys the commoner lifestyle more than he can put into words. 

He pats his toolbelt, and feels the pocket carving knife Linhardt gave him as a birthday gift many years ago. He wonders if his partner, in his infinite wisdom, knew back then that such a small gift would lead Caspar to discover his love for creating, wonders if he knows just how important this is for someone whose hands were nothing but tools of pain and destruction in the past. 

He lets out a contented sigh, and looks out of the window. Warm rays of sun filter through the clouds above. Peace sure feels nice.

Back home, Linhardt goes back inside with a basket full of freshly picked vegetables and eggs, when suddenly, a small wooden box sitting on the mantlepiece catches his eye. He groans a little. 

It's Caspar's lunchbox. Linhardt must have still been half asleep when he prepared it in the morning, and thought leaving it there for Caspar to quickly grab on his way out was a good idea. 

He had not planned to go into town today, but it cannot be helped. He grabs his satchel, places the lunchbox inside, and throws in Caspar's cloak for good measure. He might need it later when he finally closes shop for the day. The dark clouds that gather on the horizon herald rain, and Linhardt does not like them one bit.

He dresses quickly, but before he walks out the door, he spends a minute digging through his jewelry box looking for those wooden earrings he loves, and before he puts the lid back on, he shoots a fleeting glance at his favourite white ribbon. Well, it  _ used _ to be white, once upon a time. After years of loyal service, it is now way too tattered to perform its function anymore, so he keeps it there. He could never bring himself to simply throw away such a sentimental item. After all, he is still trying to figure out who it was that gifted it to him, he thinks, with a playful smile on his lips. 

It takes about fifteen minutes on foot to reach the main square of the village. The door to Caspar’s shop is closed, which is highly unusual, and it is not just closed; it is actually locked, as Linhardt discovers when he tries to turn the handle. Luckily, he has a copy of the key. He pokes his head inside, and as expected, his husband is nowhere to be found. Inside there is only silence and the intense smell of wood varnish and freshly chopped wood.

Linhardt's questions are finally answered when Mrs. Rossi, the butcher, notices him and calls him over to her shop, which is right across the street. She informs him that Caspar had to go out for an emergency repair; a hole appeared in Miss Hansen's roof when the old lady was cleaning her attic this morning. She and the neighbors feared the whole thing might collapse.

Linhardt thanks her for the tip, and promptly makes his way towards Miss Hansen's house. Caspar is perched atop the roof, studying the damaged structure with a thoughtful look on his face, and Linhardt smiles a little as he calls out to him, waving the lunchbox in the air. Caspar almost jumps off the roof when he sees that his partner has come to see him, but thankfully for Linhardt’s blood pressure, he remembers there is a ladder right there.

They greet each other with a quick peck on the lips and, to the amusement of their neighbors, they soon start bickering about whose fault it was that he forgot his lunch—Caspar, for having his head in the clouds, or Linhardt, for leaving the box in such a bizarre place. Their petty squabble ends with a playful kiss and Linhardt saying that he does not have all afternoon. He concedes victory to Caspar, who pumps his fist up in the air triumphantly and happily accepts a goodbye kiss before climbing back up.

Linhardt smiles to himself as he walks away. _ Some _ defeats he can live with.

Since he is already in town and the plaza is on the way back, he decides he can afford to tarry there for a while. He was planning to go fishing for their dinner, but seeing those dark clouds drawing closer has made him change his mind. He is going to need some ingredients for what he wants to make. 

He goes to the butcher’s, and then the bakery, where he runs into Mr. Müller. Linhardt asks him about his son—the poor lad broke his arm a couple of days ago, but Linhardt patched him up in the blink of an eye. He is recovering well, the man says, and that reminds him that he still has not properly compensated Linhardt for his help. He blushes and tells Mr. Müller not to worry about payment, but when he is treated to half a dozen freshly baked sweet buns as thanks, he simply cannot refuse.

He snacks on one of the buns as he makes his way home. Just as he is setting the shopping bags down on the kitchen counter, it starts to rain outside. Linhardt hopes Caspar is soon done with the repairs, not only for his sake but for poor Miss Hansen’s.

With nothing better to do until it is time to start preparing dinner, Linhardt spends the rest of the afternoon hunched over the first draft of his untitled book. He is mostly trying to decipher the notes in his old travel journal, which has definitely seen better days, and copying them onto the pages of a blank book that Caspar gifted him for his thirty-ninth birthday. 

The old diary holds sentimental value, though, so Linhardt treats its water-damaged pages with the utmost care, like it is a lost heirloom or some sacred artifact. The words written on it are more beautiful than precious metals or shiny gemstones. They tell a tale of adventure and companionship. The tale of two travelers who renounced their noble titles to go see the world together.

And what a wonderful world they had discovered out there. 

Linhardt reads the smudged descriptions of all the different places they have visited, the people they have met, and the cultures they have learned about over and over. It all takes him back. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the spectacular Albinean aurora above his head. His mouth waters when he recalls the delicious baklava he tried at an Almyran marketplace. When he breathes in, his lungs are filled with the fragrant, humid air of the Brigali forests.

And, in every single one of those memories, his husband—his best friend—is by his side. 

The sun is setting when Linhardt finally snaps his journal shut and returns it to his bookshelf. He is satisfied with the progress he has made today. He works at his own pace, and Caspar often reminds him to take it easy. His sleep schedule is a little better even if he  _ does _ pull the occasional all-nighter. Life is peaceful and slow-paced now, and Linhardt is the happiest he has ever been. 

He puts his writing materials away, and washes his ink-stained hands so he can start preparing dinner.

Caspar comes home at half past seven, completely drenched from head to toe. Most days he is back before six, but this time he wanted to make sure that his neighbor’s roof was perfectly fixed and that there were no leaks. At the cost of getting  _ a little _ wet, he had ensured that the old lady would sleep soundly that night. He had done a good job.

Their cats welcome him home with happy little meows, and he lets out an endeared sigh at the sight that greets him in the kitchen. Linhardt has fallen asleep on the table. The residual heat that the stove gives off keeps the room warm and dry, and there are two dishes of lukewarm food on the counter—Caspar instantly recognizes the appetizing smell of his favorite meat and vegetable pie, and his mouth starts to water. 

He nudges Linhardt awake by gently tapping him on the back of his head, and as his partner rises from his slumber, he apologizes for being late. He asks if he was worried, and chuckles when his partner groggily replies that he was simply bored. 

Since their dinner is already cold, Linhardt suggests getting cleaned up before eating. Caspar limps towards the bedroom, trying not to put his weight into his aching leg, and sits on the edge of the bed. The phantom pain has been getting worse throughout the day, but it hits him all at once now that he is finally allowed to rest.

While Linhardt draws him a warm bath with some help from his fire magic, Caspar takes off his gross, damp clothes and tosses them into the hamper. Caspar lets out a sigh as his stump is finally allowed to breathe. He is massaging his thigh when Linhardt comes out of the bathroom, emerging from a cloud of steam. Caspar cannot take his eyes off Linhardt’s slender naked body. Judging by his lack of clothes, it seems that he wants to join him in the bathtub. No complaints about that. 

Caspar gets in first, and accommodates Linhardt between his legs, enveloping him in a tight embrace that makes both of them blush. Caspar lets out a little tired laugh as Linhardt reaches behind and starts caressing his sides, but before he can go any further, he lets him know he is not in the mood to do anything tonight. Linhardt simply nods, puts Caspar’s knuckles to his lips, and gives him a little kiss. They tell each other about their day as they soak in the tub for what seems like hours. Caspar tenderly washes Linhardt’s hair while Linhardt relieves Caspar of his pain with some soothing white magic, the soft glow that emanates from his palms illuminating the dim bathroom.

Dinner comes afterwards. Caspar almost sheds a tear as he wolfs down his food, while Linhardt daintily nibbles at his portion. His cheeks stuffed, he compliments his partner’s cooking skills for the umpteenth time this month. He does not think of himself as an excellent cook, but he does what he can with what they have. Of course, Caspar’s stomach is ever so easy to please. 

They each enjoy a relaxing mug of angelica tea as they get ready for bed. Caspar is ranting about the weather as he takes off his trusty grounding charm and hangs it on the window. That way it can protect both of them, he explains to Linhardt. It looks like the storm is only going to get worse, and Caspar wonders if he will manage to get any sleep at all if it comes any closer. The distant rumbling of thunder sends shivers down his spine. 

He dives under the covers once he is satisfied with the arrangement, and Linhardt cannot help but think back to their childhood. Caspar has matured in ways he never thought possible. He is a responsible and dependable man, qualities that in addition to his ruggedly handsome looks make him very attractive in his eyes. But deep down, he is still that little boy who likes to hold his hand when it starts pouring outside. 

Well. He supposes some things do not necessarily need to change.

Linhardt holds Caspar close, and mumbles comforting words that slowly start making less and less sense as drowsiness gets the better of him. 

By the time he goes completely off-topic and starts rambling about fishing lures, Caspar lets out a little chuckle. Linhardt is too adorable for him to handle. In the past, his permanent state of sleep deprivation was a consequence of his terribly broken sleeping schedule. Now, it is a sign that he has had a productive day. He is a hard worker too; most days it is up to him to take good care of the house while Caspar is at work. He cannot stop showing his appreciation for everything he does. 

They make a good team. They always have.

He buries his face in the crook of Linhardt's neck and tells him to just close his eyes and let that green head of his get some rest already. 

And Linhardt does just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments/kudos/reviews are appreciated!


End file.
